Carnival of Scars
by Ravenschild
Summary: When expectations turn inside out, Bruce is left to pick up the pieces and wade through the endless streams of politics in order to save the Joker. (Will be Batman/Joker slash in later chapters.)
1. Chapter 1

_"I had in retrospect thought myself a monster; I had thought that being locked in a box was true and just and if you forgive the pun a necessary evil. To be unfeeling, to be in my other guise unrepentant and so, very cruel, for there are no words to describe what, I as him, did, other than barbaric. But it is what they wanted, and little by little I am forced to remind myself that that dreaded phantasm that plagued my nights and fuelled my days with self indulgent eccentricities, and by virtue I have come to haunt myself, and then ho! The ultimate joker card is dealt for if I believe, truly believe that he was me I must accept that I am meant to be nothing other than a man."_

The doctrine was simple, the reality harsh and the walls cruel beyond repair. Let me perhaps explain, for those of you who are gentle folk and have never been within the walls of an asylum, there is simply nowhere to run.

Where to begin? That's always the question. How about with now? See look, here I am chained like a dog in my cell and its cold, so very, very cold.

Cure the sick? Condition the mind to reflect the norm of society? Keep the nutters off the street so you can sleep? Behave in a humane manner? See its all bullshit, especially the last one, first do no harm. That one, forgive me, kills me every single time.

See here's the truth, I'm not crazy. I'm really, really not. No matter what they think, what they say. Do I see things differently? Of course, but then I understand. Them, me and the Joker, and now they try to hide their dirty little secret. Make it run away and shatter. The illusion of control is very much an illusion. Even for them, and by them I mean the Government and The Boss and The Roman and all their little minions who truly get off on being more evil than I ever was.

Terror is speculative I guess, but everyone had the capacity to at least defend themselves. Even from Joker's knife. But here?

The showers are always cold, the floor is always wet, the walls drip with the sweat they work up when they beat me, and there is no food, no shelter, only pain. Days and days of endless pain, and humiliation and degradation. There is true horror here, the like of which pray you never see. Never know.

The drugs they pump into me are not designed to help me, but to keep me placid, whilst they bend me to their will and work my shattered body to their satisfaction. Sometimes I scream. But then who can hear? One more crazy screaming into the night against terrors only they can see.

I laugh; it is the only thing I have left to control. I hear them on their regulation rubber soles, creeping down the corridor. Sounds like four of them this time and they are dragging something. The laughter bubbles until the fear rises in my throat and spills onto the floor depositing vital fluids with it. My body so long deprived that there is nothing left to purge.

The tears don't stop as they open the door and stand over me. Cattle prod and drugs their toys of choice, and I can't stop screaming.

As I said, in the long run there is nowhere in Arkham to run.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank God for Aaron Cash.

The name flowed over Batman like water over cold ice, one of the true incorruptible security officers of this place, this Mercey Mansion. Despite the weight of the Kevlar and leather he shuddered as he followed his reluctant escort deep into Arkham.

The name alone was enough for most inmates who tried on the_" unfit to stand trail"_ jag to run fleeing in terror. This was nothing like the Williams Medical Centre. That was all modern and bright lit and fashionable and clean. It was nothing more than a way station, a staging area before disgorging the truly insane into this fetid charnel pit of hell.

Arkham was perpetually cold; water seeped in the old basement and had never been fixed. Rising damp, mixed with drab prison green stained the walls of the concrete hallways. This place saw neither sun, nor, he sniffed, fresh air.

Underneath the disinfectant was the smell of excrement, underneath the air freshener was the unmistakable sting of bile and the recycled air hung heavy with fear and despair of not just the patients but of the warders.

And with the flickering caged lights came a feeling of dread, it was nothing real, nothing plausible but still is fingered your consciousness with chilled fingers and made you look over your shoulder, convinced you to jump at the shadows that lurked in the long lonely halls and flinch when a voice was heard to cry in the night.

Batman hated this place. It made sane men cowards and insane men, well best not to dwell on that. The halls were endless and even with a great sense of direction he found he had to refocus otherwise he too could get lost in the maze.

His guard was young, and keenly aware of the masked vigilante that followed soundlessly. He kept turning to look at Bruce and after what seemed to be the hundredth time Batman slowed.

"You have a question?" The deep gravel voice reverberated through the empty spaces and the guard winced.

"No, no sir, we're almost there." And true to his word one last turn and Batman frowned beneath the mask. Commissioner Gordon chewed at the end of an electronic cigarette. His face creased into a grimace as he pushed his hand into his coat pocket. Behind him was a hive of activity, several SWAT men with raised shields, Duncan Reynolds from the bomb squad and paramedics.

The area was cordoned off as Detective Ramirez pushed up to the Commissioner.

"Joker was found in his cell a little over an hour ago so 2 am by Bill North, he's locked himself in with the Joker and refused to come out until we got you here."

"So no eyes inside?"

"Nah." Ramirez spat with ill temper. "Ask me he's as nuts at the Joker."

"Who asked for me?" Batman growled as he moved closer to the closed door.

"Bill." Gordon answered. "Any ideas?"

"No." He raised his gloved fist and pounded on the door.

"Told you to back off until Batman gets here." The unmistakable Brooklyn accent of Bill North wafted through.

Batman frowned something was not right, normally by now it would be The Jokers insane sing song voice that taunted him about blood and bullets and 'watch the world burn'. But not this, the man on the other side of the door didn't sound scared, didn't sound like his life was in jeopardy. He flicked the small metal door back from the spy hole and peered in.

The room was pitch black but he heard a rustle in the far corner and a moan. Bill North's gentle face contorted into a snarl as he launched himself at the door and sagged when he saw the cowl on the other side.

"Just you ok?"

Batman nodded once and the door was opened enough for him to enter. It took long moments before his eyes adjusted; vaguely he remembered hearing the door be barricaded again before brown eyes blinked at him owlishly.

"Found him like this on rounds." The man spoke and Batman swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked on the Joker. Thin far too thin was the first thing that came to mind and wrapped no swaddled in an asylum blanket he shivered, toxic green eyes were wild with fear and pain as obscene tears leaked down the un painted face. Batman's heart pounded in his ears, the adrenaline dumped into his body made him shake as he stepped forward. "The other guards, some of them like to play games. He's covered in bruises and burns and Jesus Batman I didn't know what to do. If they got him in the infirmary they'd kill him for sure, and after what happened to little Harley."

"What happened to Harley?" Batman edged forward in the tiny room, Bill had used the cot to barricade the door and the light was out. He pulled out a glow stick from his utility belt and shook it.

"You know she was pregnant? Twins?" Bill spoke softly as the Joker became distressed and began to rock as the green light hit his face.

"No."

"They took her middle of the night bout three weeks back, she was just starting to really show. Thing is there was nothing on the manifest, no transfer orders, nothing, it's like she un-existed. "

Batman crouched in the back corner; his large gloved hand reached slowly forward to the Joker who frowned as if some long internal debate and launched himself forward into the Kevlar coated arms. Instinctively he closed his arms around the fallen clown and began to rock slowly.

"He's got multiple contusions, burns, he's been tortured and starved, water boarded, electrocuted, cut and that's just what I can see." Bill North turned horror filled eyes down to the trembling man and put a hand out to gently rub his back. Joker began to shiver and his voice like paper whispered into Batman's ear.

"Not crazy, really really not. Cadmus made the Voice of God, Cadmus made me." Joker whispered as his breath choked on a cry and passed out.

Stunned Batman pulled the blanket away from the prone figure and looked down at the blood that pooled on the dark concrete floor.

"Medic!" Batman shouted as he lifted the too thin frame and Bill opened the door. He laid his load down on the gurney and looked directly at Gordon. "Take him to Gotham General."

"They can treat him here." Ramirez rounded.

Batman pushed himself close to the Detective. "They did that to him here." The voice quiet, clipped, dark and positively lethal.

"You'd better decide quickly." The paramedic shouted. "He's flat lining."

"Go." Gordon ordered and ran a hand through his hair.

In the melee and shouted commands they missed the masked man's exit, the words ringing in his ears.

_"Cadmus made the Voice of God, Cadmus made me."_

Hell.

The clown may well know of Cadmus nothing would surprise him, but those words, those eyes and the pain in the voice as his most hated of enemies cowered in his arms for sanctuary.

Hell.

Bruce ran...


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron Cash nursed the double malt scotch in his one good hand and watched the ice melt. His tiny 2nd floor apartment came with its own balcony. Well on the lease anyway, said balcony was a three foot square of landing next to the fire escape, but he wasn't complaining. The night air for a change had blown east away from his home and carried the faint scent of the river with it.

He was far too used to the comings and going's in the asylum to startle when a breeze lifted his shirt and a soft whoosh of air heralded the arrival of his companion. His eyes never left the city, the soft twinkle of lights soothed fraught nerves as he sipped the scotch again.

"Did you find it?" Aaron asked as he felt the Batman settle next to him.

"I found something."

"Ah." He sipped again. "Care to share?" his dark skin beaded with sweat.

"Possibly." Batman growled. "Tell me what happened to Harley?"

"Harley, Harley, sweet, sweet baby girl. Crazy as a loon, but sweet and loved her Puddin'. Did the unforgivable, fell pregnant, with twins and poof!" Aaron waved the glass in the air. "Suddenly she's no more. No file, no birth certificate, no transfer orders, no photographs. She was unmade, in less time than it took to make a grilled cheese sandwich." He chuckled mirthlessly and turned sombre eyes finally on his companion.

"Any ideas?" Batman's growl was silent like the night, deadly and void of just enough emotion to make you truly afraid.

"A few. What did you find? I saw the Bat signal, so no doubt you got a call from Gordon."

"I did. Joker has been abused and is en-route to a medical facility."

"How bad?" There was no love lost, he'd lost his hand to Croc when the Joker took over Arkham last time, but still the clown was under his protection. And the abuse made his blood burn.

"Bad."

"You know who?"

"I know some of it, but there's more. Before he passed out he said something to me, something puzzling."

"What?" Aaron finished off his drink and rubbed the ice cold glass against his neck.

"Said that Cadmus made the Voice of God, Cadmus made me."

"Bloody hell." Aaron went inside the apartment and topped up his drink. "Want one?"

Batman shook his head.

"Dr Ronald Duncan ex MIT, ex Harvard, ex CIA during the late 80's worked on a project called Voice of God along with Dr Merrick Constable."

"I know him."

"Was for a very brief time our resident doctor in chief."

"And?"

"And that's all I know, I remember the Voice of God, we were watching some asinine conspiracy programme on the TV, people wandered around with tin foil on their heads to stop the aliens speaking to them, supposedly a government plot to control our minds." Aaron shrugged. "According to Doc Constable it was all true, but then as you know, he turned out to be loonier than the guests."

Sensing that he would get nothing more, Batman exited out onto the balcony.

"What's Cadmus?" he asked the retreating back.

"Nothing good."

~~~~~~~~)))(((~~~~~~~~~

"Nurse, two large bore IV's, get those leads checked, what's the BP?"

"190 over 120 stabilizing, CO Sats at 98%."

"Let's get the lines in and warm the IV tube, his core temp is too low."

"Shit. I can't get a vein."

"Try the leg. I want a full tox screen, CK-MB, Serum Myaglobin, EFT, ESR, CRP the lot, and stat nurse. Any history of heart disease?" Dr Faber looked up at Commissioner Gordon and Ramirez who handed over Joker's medical records to the nurse.

"None."

"Medications?"

The nurse frowned and flipped through the pages. "Massive amounts of anti psychotic medication, nothing for heart, seizures or diabetes."

"That's it? That's what they gave him? Bullshit, fuck he's seizing." The tiny body dwarfed by the bed and machinery arched up, the bones cracked with a sickening sound as Joker's eyes flickered under the lids and foam flecked his lips. The doctor along with a nurse and orderly pushed a rubber ring into his mouth and held him down. "Lorazepam IV push and hurry."

His body softened and sagged against the bed, the sheets turned red as the doctor swore and another doctor answered the call, this one a large man with gentle hands as he flicked back the sheet and went directly to the renewed source of the bleeding.

"Get them out of here." Dr Faber growled as he pushed dirty blond hair away from frightened eyes and Joker moaned. Gordon and Ramirez were pushed bodily out of the way amid protests. "Hey."

Tears tracked the clowns face as he shivered and moaned again. "Shh it's ok, you're safe now. My names Nick, I hear they call you Mr J is that ok?"

Joker nodded once too weak to remove the ring from his mouth.

"You're at Gotham General. Doctor Castle and I will be looking after you. Ok?"

Again the small nod.

"I need to turn him." Doctor Castle announced in a soft Dublin accent.

"Ok going to turn you now, on the count of three."

Joker moaned on one, cried on two and screamed on three as his skin stuck to the table, blessedly he passed out and the Doctor's eyes went wide.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)))(((~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours passed as Jim Gordon nursed a cup of cold black coffee. The examination room was a hive of activity and he heard the Joker scream not once but many times, like a soul in mortal anguish and he couldn't find it in himself to enjoy the sound. Instead he winced as he took in the haggard expression of the doctors who finally emerged from behind the curtain.

"We're moving him to a private room in the secure section. He's stable for the moment, he may need surgery but we will wait for the registrar to determine that. He's lucky."

"Lucky?"

Nick Faber led the Commissioner by the elbow into an empty office. "Another ten minutes he would have died."

"I'm not sure that wouldn't have been more humane."

Nick pushed a hand through his short dark hair and looked at the man. "Unfortunately I agree. He's a mess. First and second degree burns to most of his torso and feet from a cattle prod, marks are distinctive, broken ankle, and collar bone, fractured skull, he's had a seizure due to electroshock abuse, he has rectal tearing, grossly underweight, he has several infections and suffered blood loss."

"Rectal tearing?"

"He's been sexually abused for several months but the looks of it, along with recent trauma."

"Bloody hell." Jim threw his now empty cup in the trash can.

"I'm not a toxicologist, but Commissioner something is off about his treatments. There are a number of old wounds and fractures underneath it all, that suggest long term abuse which most likely will include pharmacology. When we've got the screens back I'll let you know. Clara is processing the rape kit in liaison with the relevant unit in your department."

"Thank you, I'll ah, post a guard outside of his room."

"Standard procedure, but I assure you, he's too ill."

"Doctor don't let that son of a bitch fool you, I've seen him tazered by three officers and run with a broken leg, the bone sticking straight out."

"Do what you have to do, for now I have a patient to see to, one I'm not expecting to survive the night. Does he have family?"

"We don't even know his real name."

"There must be someone close."

"No. Only Batman."

"Fabulous." Nick grumbled.


	4. Chapter 4

"Tell me you're not serious." Dick paced the cave and glowered at Bruce as he peeled off the body armour and slung a towel over his shoulder.

"When am I ever anything else?" He arched a manicured brow at the boy and smiled inwardly, someday soon Dick would be an amazing advantage in the never ending war that was Gotham.

"Gee, I don't know _Dad_, but it seems to me you've completely flipped it this time. What do you mean the Joker may not be crazy after all?"

"I mean." Bruce walked back to the mainframe and took his seat. "That there is decidedly something odd going on, more odd than normal."

"And you jump to this because he knew of Cadmus?"

"Amongst other things." Bruce clicked open a file and images taken scant moments before in the ER were plastered across several plasma screens and Dick turned an unhealthy shade of green.

"I know you've always taught me that violence is not an answer and violence against the weak is reprehensible but c'mon he killed dozens."

"So this is justified?"

"Brutality like this is never justified." Alfred intoned as he came in with a tray of hot drinks.

"No, no it's not. I have a gut feeling Alfred, something is making me itch."

"Oh dear." Alfred took his own cup and sat down.

"You know what? The world is crazy, Batman is worried about the Joker who may or may not be insane. Whatever, I have a chem. assignment to finish before I get flunked." With a huff and all the self righteous indignation only a twelve year old could muster, he flung his workout towel into the bin and headed up the stairs.

"Maybe he's right."

"Might I remind you compassion is never wrong Master Bruce? Do you want to talk about it?"

Bruce sipped his hot cocoa and smiled over the rim. "I got a message from Aaron Cash, he said I should pay a visit to Arkham. Harleen Quinzel seems to have vanished and there are no records in any system to even suggest she ever existed."

"Odd."

"I thought so, when I got to Arkham I was escorted in by one of the guards."

"They were expecting you?"

"So it seems, I however, was not expecting to find Joker in that condition." Bruce waved his hand to the monitors.

"Commissioner Gordon has already made arrests I assume?"

"Apparently so, one of whom has lawyered up well above his pay grade. Two others have yet to be found and one more was found dead. Presumed suicide."

"Ah, it has been years since I was in The Service, but it seems to me that someone is cleaning house."

"Agreed."

"Do you have any leads?"

"Yes a couple, and then of course I can always have an intimate chat with Ms Weller." Alfred smirked.

"Better you than me Master Bruce." Alfred stood up and carefully balanced the empty cups back on the silver tray and slowly made his way across the giant penny. "What is his condition?"

Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Critical."

"You said you thought perhaps he wasn't insane?"

"It is possible."

"Then he was of sound mind when he watched the world burn?"

"I don't know Alfred, I really don't. I saw him that night on the peer, he clearly wasn't sane, he's never still, not like now, and it's unnerving." Bruce scrubbed his face as he stood to don the armour again.

"He's human, underneath all of his psychosis he is a man. And if he wasn't insane then what was he?"

"I have no idea." Bruce pulled the cowl back on and headed out again, all thoughts of a hot shower and six hours sleep fled.

~~~)))(((~~~

The steady blip of the heart monitor was the only thing that eased Bruce's mind. Finally he sat at the end of the bed and just looked.

Small and frail with high cheek bones and angular features, with a shock of shoulder length blonde curls that were limp and dirty against the white pillow. Under the bruised eye lids he knew the eyes were a vivid green and the pale milk white skin and he frowned. Now still and calm Joker was amazingly attractive, all traces of insanity erased by the medical equipment and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch, to soothe the pain he saw shadowed in the emaciated body. This was wrong, so very very wrong, twice in one night he had empathy for his most violent enemy.

His long held resolve faltered as he wondered at the dichotomy that was The Joker. He was younger, much younger than his mania allowed him to be and Bruce warranted he would be years younger than himself. So what was this twenty-something doing terrorizing his City? And for what possible reason? Had he been the protagonist or unwilling victim in this charade. Bruce rubbed his head through the cowl and frowned. Nothing made sense anymore and he much preferred things to make sense. Dealing with the murky and ugly world of interagency politics always made his skin itch, he needed an ally, someone who could poke the bear and have it not be noticed.

He sighed again when he realised the only person who could ask was Clark and that would mean involving Superman in a crazy idea that the madman was in fact not. Yeah that was going to go so much better than the conversation with Dick.

"The Commissioner said he only had you." Nick Faber had watched the still dark figure at the end of his patient's bed for the last few minutes and began to wonder at the complex nature of the relationship the two men had.

"Strange." Batman looked at the man by the door and felt a fission of anxiety pass over him, so lost to his own musings he hadn't heard him enter, and that was unsettling.

"Mmmm well you have an acrimonious relationship to say the least, but it is a relationship, twisted and bitter though it may be." Nick smiled fully and flicked through the chart at the end of the bed.

"That's an understatement." Batman agreed and watched the man closely. "Will he make it?"

"Surprisingly yes, so long as we've caught the infection in time and nothing else goes wrong. I don't suppose you drink hospital coffee?"

"On occasion." Batman curled his lip. "Black."

"Of course." Nick smiled and Bruce felt himself warming to the man as he approached the bed.

Joker seemed to sense his presence and turned his head slightly at the same time Bruce gave into the temptation and touched the side of his head. The oxygen mask made it difficult to see but he could have sworn he saw the corner of a scarred mouth turn up as he gently rubbed his face. Tired eyes fluttered open and one hand clutched a the fabric of his cape through the bars on the side of the bed.

"Shhhh." Batman soothed gently as a tear escaped and ran down Joker's face. Bruce thumbed it away and finally too exhausted to fight the drugs gave up and fell back into sleep. The monitor kept a steady beat and Batman retreated to the shadows. "He woke up."

"That's a good sign. Did he say anything?"

"No but he seemed to recognise me." Batman took the offered coffee cup and nodded.

"Well yes I guess you'd be hard to miss." Nick sipped his own brew. "Its crap but its caffeine and it's hot."

"You don't seem perturbed to find me here."

"Nope, I expected it; though I am pleased you waited until we moved him into the secure room. I must admit to being concerned as to how you got in, but then, you're Batman." Nick shrugged. "Is there somewhere I can send you the toxicology and blood work?"

"Why?"

"He's been systematically tortured for months, the drugs in his system are not the standard one's I'd expect to see in a criminally insane psychotic patient, top it off I don't even recognise half of them, and I've been at this for years." Nick rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time Batman realised how tired the man looked.

"Go on." The coffee cup remained a warm presence in his hand but he didn't sip, paranoia was a perfectly acceptable form of defence.

"He has had surgery years back by the looks of it at the base of the skull and scans have picked up several small metallic objects imbedded near the brain stem."

"To what purpose?"

"I have no idea I've never seen anything like it I will however find out unless you know what they are?"

"No."

"No? Ok then. He was lucid for a few minutes and all he could say was Voice of God and Batman in the one sentence. Along with a litany of please please please. I think he's been experimented on."

"To what end?'

"Well certainly not to cure his psychosis if in fact he really is crazy."

"You doubt it?"

"Actually I do, his medical records are seriously disturbing."

"I'm looking into it." Batman didn't know why he felt compelled to confide in this man.

Before Nick could turn back to his dark companion there was a small draft and then he was gone, silently into the night.

~~~)))(((~~~

One more stop, just one. That was all that was needed and maybe then he could find peace, maybe then the voices would stop and the pain would go away. Maybe then they wouldn't chase him anymore, maybe life would be kind and he knew in his heart life was never kind.

He wobbled across the street, the pain in his head burned and with it his vision. The voice that thumped against the migraine that taunted him with one word, over and over again. Burn, burn, burn, burn. Until he could no longer ignore the compulsion, or the itch or the ache and the grit in his eyes. He sat down in the middle of the road, despite protests from drivers and pedestrians, with a steady hand he poured the gasoline over his head and wondered why it stung his eyes.

"Burn, burn, burn." Over and over again as he lit the match.

Dr Merrick Constable was no more; he'd finally managed to make it stop.


	5. Chapter 5

Batman's mood was dark and sour; he'd managed two hours sleep before the call came. His feet felt like lead and never before had he wanted to punch something so much. Well he had but that was moot at this point. Commissioner Gordon was not a man to be ignored and the safety of HIS city was paramount. Some nights though he wanted nothing more than eight hours sleep with the prospect of breakfast at a decent hour with buckets of hot coffee. His musing would do him no good now and it was a testament to how tired he truly was.

"Self immolation?"

"It's odd I'll grant you but not for Gotham. What do you want from me?" Batman gruffed.

"Hey I'm tired too; damn it I'm no more than a beat cop Batman, but this is way above my skills. I tell you this is too hinkey for words."

"Do you have an ID?"

"Um yeah." Gordon rifled through his over cluttered desk and found the scrap of paper with a name scrawled on it. "Doctor Merrick Constable."

"Perfect." Batman finally gave in to being human under the Kevlar and dropped down into the seat in the cramped office.

"You know him?"

"You should, he was Medical Director of Arkham before he became unstable. He had no family from memory and was moved by the board of the Asylum into a private sanatorium in Boston."

"Ah well at least that's a start. Could this night get any more fucked up?"

Batman smirked. "Welcome to my world. Joker will make it I spoke to his doctor earlier."

"Nick Faber? Yeah he's seems to be a good man."

"And we could use as many of them as we can get. I'm concerned for Harley."

Gordon dropped into his seat and pulled out the electronic cigarette, looked at it and threw it in the bin with disgust. "Do we have any idea how that happened? A paperwork mishap maybe?"

"No. She has been systematically unmade. Birth certificates, graduation, high school, college, medical university, tax records nothing exists."

"Very few people have that skill level."

"Or access."

"Government?"

"Probably I will need to check on sources. Did you know she was pregnant?"

Gordon rubbed his forehead. "Do I even want to know?"

"A source says the babies were Joker's."

"Babies?"

"Twins."

"You know what I need to sleep and coffee. And not necessarily in that order."

"Go home Jim, get some rest. We should have answers tomorrow night."

~~~~~~~~~~))))))))((((((((((((~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was for the first time in months warm. The press against his mind gone and he rattled the door on the closet surprised when he felt it give and swing open. He tippy toed around the edges of his insanity and looked down to see the purple clad fiend asleep. The wires that pulled the strings appeared sheared through and the acid green eyes were closed, almost peacefully.

He felt light headed the thrum against his mind was pain, he knew that feeling too well and he sighed, some things just never changed. He knew the door to the left if he opened it would flood him with agony but there was also his Bat. The only constant, the only one who he could rely on was just on the other side of the door. He needed that comfort, craved it, if only to know that this one human being would at least treat him with compassion if not outright comfort. The black Kevlar hid the man and the mask hid the face, but beneath that intransient heart, within the confines of that rigidly controlled rage and formidable intellect he knew that his Bat would never cause him harm.

A few punches when Joker was around were nothing, no this was new, this was clean and he prayed that the man who was his nemesis and only hope could see the difference.

As if on cue a mirror appeared on the wall and he looked at himself. The madness was gone but the scars remained. On his face, his honey blonde curls were far too long and he himself was thin, beyond anything that should be allowed to happen to a man. He pressed his fingers to ribs and felt them too easily, his wrists tinier than a 10 year old child. His face had always been angular but what he saw horrified him, his cheeks sunken with dark circles under his eyes, his lips blue and chapped and covered with sores and blood. His face caked with dirt which collected into the creases of his scars and he touched the mirror. Long thin fingers no longer capable of giving compassion or comfort to even him and the tears flowed. His heart broke in that moment as he wiped desperately at the tears and stumbled, his feet stuck to the timber floor and he finally pulled himself free and only inches from the door to pain and his Bat he stopped and looked back at the broken form of the Joker and felt the loathing crawl up from his gut. He stopped maybe it was better to stay here just for a little while, just until the pain would be less, just to make sure that Joker didn't wake up again. He didn't want to be out if he did, he needed to be able to run back into the closet and close the door.

Defeated he sat on the floor next to the broken clown and pulled his knees to his chest and laid his head down on the blood that ran freely and rocked. There really was nothing else he could do.

~~~)))(((~~~

Alfred opened the small safe in his room and retrieved the document folder at the very back. He ran aged hands across the leather and with a final nod of assent, closed the safe firmly and exited.

He found Bruce in the sitting room, cashmere socks pulled up under his jeans as he sat curled on the sofa in front of the fire. He was a picture of sartorial elegance as he looked up at his old retainer. The book discarded to the Persian rug.

"I had a life before I came to work for your father." The elder gent sat down at the other end of the sofa, so much like they had done when Bruce was just a small scared child and he smiled gently.

"Really?" Bruce grinned.

"Brat." Alfred remonstrated.

"You raised this brat, is there a purpose to this?"

"One might say I raised the bat as well. Nevertheless in my day you know I worked in The Service for Queen and Country."

"Yes, although I never understood why you would choose to become the Butler."

"Initially I was requested by the Crown to ensure the safety of your father during a politically charged time. He had come to London from the Middle East, specifically Aden; at request to provide introductions to some of the more difficult shall we say people to meet." Bruce sat up straight and rolled his shoulders. "There had been a credible threat against his safety and we could not have that, a prominent American real estate tycoon to be assassinated on British soil. Unforgivable."

"Agreed."

"He was such a charming man, and he loved your mother so very much, and we became friends. The service had changed and my skills were becoming obsolete, diplomacy was the new weapon of choice. Not long after he contacted me and offered me a job as head of security, what better place than in the household." Alfred fingered the pouch before he opened it and tipped out a small book and typed letter, Bruce watched him with dawning apprehension.

"Alfred?"

"No Master Bruce, this was my insurance policy, my holy grail if you will. You see _Voice of God _was a term I seemed to remember and it occurs to me that this project you're attempting to unravel has its genesis in London during the cold war."

Bruce fingered the documents silently as he read the typed letters. "A Manchurian Candidate?"

"Indeed. We of course knew about the sleepers within our community, people who were so deeply conditioned that they could be activated by a trigger, series of words or the like, to commit unspeakable acts of treason and sabotage with little to no conscience."

"And the UK and US created our own?"

"From what I know, yes. When the CIA became involved during the late 80's it became a means of control. To coerce a man to buy a certain stock, or miss a train, or press a button, or commit suicide. They looked at a bigger picture, each act each degree was determined to have a knock on effect, that the New World Order could manipulate economies and countries."

"Or to silence a group, to quell or raise the voice of dissent. How far along the theoretical path did they go?" Bruce continued to read the ramifications chilled him.

"They passed theory and went to live testing."

"Good Lord."

"Indeed, I may be leading you along the wrong path, but I don't believe this is Government controlled. A senate enquiry mothballed the entire project nearly twenty years ago."

"Yet Dr Duncan was known to be carrying on the work in the late 80's here in Boston."

"I said the Government mothballed the programme, not the CIA."

"Dr Constable, Duncan's research partner killed himself this morning."

"How?" Alfred grew very calm.

"He poured gasoline over his head and lit the match in the middle of morning traffic."

"Did he say anything?" his voice unaccountably soft.

"He said Burn."

"Be careful Bruce, very careful please these people are dangerous."

"They all are, this time I think even Batman needs to call in re-enforcements."


	6. Chapter 6

Clark Kent was a gentle man, who had practiced for a lifetime how to handle humans. How to not break them, how to protect them, even at times against themselves. He exercised restraint in everything he did and he liked to think that mild mannered was not just an easy moniker that sat for the "reporter" part of his persona but for him in general. After all Ma had made certain to drum it into him that he was different but not strange, he was a man fallible and human as they came despite his Kryptonian heritage. Today however he glowered, his entire demeanour frightening as he stalked the gangway of the Watchtower.

Bruce to his credit stood his ground, bigger men he reasoned had tried and he wasn't exactly a shrinking violet.

"You cannot seriously believe this, this drivel?"

"Are you done with the self righteous indignation?"

"B come on." Superman pleaded as he stopped floating for a moment.

"With or without your help I will find out. So far there is a project created by Cadmus that doesn't exist, yet did and was mothballed by a Senate Committee; a doctor who was the lead researcher who became the Director of Arkham the month before The Joker arrived on the scene. Who went crazy because of the voices in his head, the Voice of God told him to do it, and then less than 24hours ago kills himself by self immolation on a main road in Gotham. Oh and let's not forget the man who was the Joker is laying in Gotham General with wounds so serious because of wholesale systemic abuse and rape that he may not survive. Harley goes missing when she begins to show she's pregnant and tell me this is just some freaking enormous co-incidence so I can go home and fucking sleep Clark!" Batman's voice rose several decibels as he finally shouted down the man who was his best friend.

"Hey calm down, it's just you know, a bit hard to take."

"Really well here's the best bit, Alfred knew about the project from his time in The Service before I was even born."

Clark crossed his legs lotus style and floated in mid air as he peered at his friend. "Ok ok, so what is it you want me to do?"

"Think about it Clark, if this is really what I think it is some digging by the press would not go astray, especially now you have a perfect reason."

"The crispy Dr Constable?"

"Ew, Clark, just ew." Bruce shook himself with a small smile, and Clark grinned. "I wonder if the world is ready to find out Superman has a morbid sense of humour."

"I don't know shall we tell them that the Bat smiles at the same time?"

"Touche. So will you do it?"

"Of course. It is possible that the Joker is playing with you."

Bruce shook his head and opened up a small palm pilot that flashed photos across it. "I don't think he's in any fit condition to play with anyone Clark."

"Just me?"

"I would advise that, Lois could be in real danger if this goes pear shaped and she has a family to protect."

"So do you."

"Ahuh, anyone who wants to take on the Bat Clan feel free."

"Bat Clan? 2 does not a clan make Bruce."

"You tell that to Dick." Batman nodded and headed towards the Javelin. "I ah, don't need to tell you do I?"

"Only if you take the same advice." Clark countered.

~~~)))(((~~~

He liked the silence of outer space; it put things into perspective and calmed his mind. So much now to lose that he was a parent. So much now to forgive if the Joker was a victim, he closed his eyes as he snapped the Javelin onto autopilot.

That small frail body wrapped in hospital blankets, dwarfed by the machines that beeped and whirred, somehow stole its way into his chest. His compassion kicked in, in that horrid cell the same way that Dick wound into his heart. Alfred had raised him to be a "good man" and he often wondered what that meant.

He practiced charity in most facets of his life; in Wayne Enterprises everyone got a chance, but rarely two. If they stole, they committed a crime it was the same as if they were pond scum on the street and were dealt with, with the brutal efficiency of his legal team.

As the Bat he'd been known to let lesser criminal off for petty crimes when it was to feed kids. He recognised that being a good man often meant bending the law. But still he'd always believed.

Right now the inky blackness of space and the sparks that lit up around the Javelin as he re entered Earth orbit were oddly calming as he took deep slow breathes and tried to analyse the feelings that stirred in him when he thought of the Joker.

And not for the first time was he disturbed to realise that there was an attraction there. Joker had often claimed to be the other part of his soul, the yin to his yang and he growled. But here, alone in space, there was a freedom to admit that he indeed was drawn to the strange and energetic man. The man whose entire life was colour and big and explosive, at that he did chuckle. To see him so grey, so broken was wrong more so because of the capacity for chaos and mayhem the man had.

But now the sinking doubts that this was an innocent man, who was perhaps a pawn for some unknown force, to do unknown things, for an unknown cause. The unknown made his teeth itch but it was a conviction now, if the clown was playing with him as Clark and Dick suspected then he would find a nice safe padded cell for him somewhere and play SpongeBob on eternal loop. But what if he was wrong?

He scrubbed a tired hand over his face and pushed his fingers under the cowl. He was Batman for God's sake, he didn't have a crisis of confidence, he just kept going until the truth was uncovered and waited for the authorities to take over and make sense of it. Look after the victims, clean up the mess, put the bad people away. But now in this mire, if the authorities were the perpetrators then who was there to save the simple man? The Justice League was not set up for world domination, he'd seen how well that had worked in an alternate universe and it still at times caused him nightmares.

Sometimes he dreamt of a world without Batman, and without the need for him but when he woke he knew the futility of that. To live in a sanitized world devoid of life and choice was worse far worse than now. Other times he dreamt of his parents, but then he had been eight and despite the pain in his chest at their loss and the fear he didn't remember them as people. They were his ideal, his mentors his avatars who kept him moving forward in this world. And like the Holy Grail they had become they were lost and unattainable and only the faint echo of feeling was left.

When he thought of parental figures, he thought of Alfred. The man had become his entire world, had offered him succour and peace and had supported his Mission. But at what cost? For the Wayne line to end with him? For him to have no life? No family? To be consumed by the darkness he walked in? He knew that they would despair, as Alfred began to despair of the path he had chosen. But he would never admonish, because he too saw the need for the Batman.

There was a piece of information he was missing. Something was terribly wrong in this scenario. He knew Cadmus had some off the wall ideas but he believed that Amanda Waller was nothing if not honest and reasonable.

Like a bulb going off he realised he was looking in the wrong place. Follow the breadcrumbs and start from basics. It wasn't just about Joker's words, investigate the men who hurt him, and get the toxicology reports from his doctor. Bruce breathed deeply and smiled as the cave came into view. Yes now he had a direction. Let Clark deal with the Government. He'd do what he did best.

~~~)))(((~~~

He woke in a sterile room, he smelt the disinfectant, and the soft tread of shoes outside and his heart spiked. For a terrible moment he thought he was still in Arkham and he couldn't go through it again. And where was his Bat? He was alone and it hurt, fuck it hurt. His hand's clenched around the bars of his bed and he screamed.

For the second time in as many days the heart monitor flat lined.


	7. Chapter 7

Jesus he could not get a break. He was barely in the car park after fifteen hours and his pager went. He wanted home, he wanted food, he wanted a shower, and he just wanted to be away from the damn hospital for a few brief hours of normality.

He ran back to the elevator and pushed through the throng of emergency medical personal outside the Joker's door.

"What happened?" he flipped the stethoscope around his neck and pulled the chart.

"Heart attack."

"Yeah really just like the last one?" Nick asked sourly.

"Looks like it." The triage nurse answered as they snapped the oxygen mask back onto the still figure and the readings began to normalise.

Nick frowned he needed to speak to Batman, right now he was so far out of his depth he could be an iguana. He flipped open his phone and pulled out Gordon's business card. After a few rings a sleepy voice answered.

_Sleeping lucky bastard_ Nick thought. "Commissioner, its Doctor Faber from Gotham General, is there a way apart from the bat signal that you contact him?"

"Why would I want to do that?" Gordon sighed.

"Because Joker just flat lined again."

"I'll let him know." The line went dead and Nick went back to draw bloods. He took the chart to the Doctors lounge and took photos of each page with his phone.

~~~)))(((~~~

"You rang?" Batman growled softly as the Doctor jumped awake.

"Jesus Joker's not the only one to have a heart attack!"

"Sorry." Batman smirked. "Heart attack?"

"Yes yes, I've got the results now." Nick handed over the sheaf of papers and watched as Batman read and paced.

"Imbalance of sodium, potassium and chlorine. Calcium Gluconate?"

"Combined with another toxin I can't identify." Nick pointed to the details on the page.

"That's a derivation of Scarecrows fear toxin."

"Ah, of course, that would explain it, imbalance the biochemistry, terrify him so his heart is erratic and bang, it stops."

"Someone tried to kill him Doctor."

"Yes I'm aware. There are incredible discrepancies within his blood work. There is no evidence of heart death, nothing that would indicate a heart attack per se, however, he flat lined an hour ago and his blood levels are perfect. Is it time to admit I'm fucking scared?" Nick smiled as he sipped at the now cold coffee and made a face.

"I think the time was about ten hours ago. The question is why and who? There has been an enormous effort put into making it look normal."

"Too much. Look I don't know which way to turn. If he has been gotten too here and it's not residue from Arkham then that opens another quandary."

"Where can we put him that's safe?" Bruce paced again.

"He could go back to Arkham but I doubt psychologically that would be terribly kind, he'd die in his current condition of fright. Blackgate is out; even the secure section cannot guarantee his safety. Otherwise we'd have to send him to Metropolis or New York."

"No he stays in Gotham. Joker has never actually been tried for his crimes Doctor. He would have to be tried before we can transport him, and he's clearly not fit to stand trial. Which also means Blackgate is out, unless the DA lays charges and accepts he is sane enough to stand trial."

"Blood work, reactions, from what I've seen Batman." Nick reached out a hand and laid it on the Kevlar and nomax body armour of his arm. "I don't think he's crazy. Those metal objects have microcircuitry."

"Do you have the schematics?"

"Yes. And if you had a cell phone I could send them to you." Nick smiled again.

"Ahuh and risk the chance of it being named the Bat Phone." Bruce kicked himself; he was so tired he was almost flirting. Stop, stop it now.

Nick laughed.

"You can use this number; send me everything that you have here. Doctor I mean everything, and then stop looking. You are his best hope of survival and we cannot afford you to be compromised."

"Protecting me?" Nick smiled as he stepped back.

"It's my job. Can I see him?"

"In a moment. I know I teased you earlier about having a strange relationship with him, but you care about him don't you?"

"Yes I care."

Nick nodded. "He's lucky."

~~~)))(((~~~

What greeted him did not inspire confidence. If possible Joker looked even smaller, like he had shrunk, but those eyes fluttered open and he saw true fear as he stepped closer and then relief.

"Hey Sugar." His voice sounded dry like a whisper from the grave.

"You just keep getting into trouble don't you?" Bruce asked as he removed a gauntlet and cupped the fragile face in his large hand.

"Mmm." Joker nuzzled the hand and curiously kissed the palm.

"So who am I talking to?" Batman pushed the long dirty curls away from his forehead, kept his touch light and soothing.

"Jack."

"Jack?"

"Napier. Find the records Sugar." Jack slurred softly.

"I will. Where's the Joker?"

"Jokers a construct, he was never real Batsy. Help me, please help me, you're all I have." An obscene tear slid down his face and Batman thumbed it away again, as Jack faded to sleep.

He seemed so young in that moment but at least now he had a name, and with that he could begin the search. Back to basics that's all he needed to do, go back to basics.

It was reflex only that made him reach down and put the oxygen mask back in place and kiss the high forehead. Jack smiled a little and breathed deeply.

Later when he had time he would take it out and have a good look, but his arms itched to pull the man to him and soothe the hurt. Later, it would have to wait, because if his instinct was correct then time for Jack Napier was running out.

~~~)))(((~~~

Nick mentally high fived himself when he saw the kiss. His suspicion had been correct, but he would have to consider the ramifications later. Right now he had a headache of epic proportions and he just wanted to go home. In his head he heard the word sleep and he nodded, he was tired and sleep sounded great.

"Sleep." He agreed readily and finally headed home.


	8. Chapter 8

In a fit of pique Bruce threw the documents across the boardroom table and glowered at the assembled Arkham board members.

"Let's make this simple shall we."

Eagerly the assembled group six men and two women nodded as the billionaire paced.

"The way I see it." Bruce began and Lucius sighed as he looked up sharply. "All of you have been on the board for years, most of you use it as a tax dodge and you courted me, specifically Wayne Enterprises to assist in the fundraising and appointing of senior personal. Am I missing anything?"

"No." Luke Everett stammered the appointed spokesman for the group.

"Oh good. So my reputation may not mean a whole lot to you, beyond my ability to raise money for the facility, but it means a great deal to me."

Cynthia Sinclair of _The Sinclair's_, old money don't you know, snickered. And Bruce smiled his most dazzling playboy smile.

"I would suggest Ms Sinclair that you refrain from being rude, my reputation goes well beyond the public facade and as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises if my name personally is linked to this debacle then I can repair that, but you load of backstabbing miscreants have managed to drag my company and the thousands of employees through the mud. So tell me where you will be financially when my stock drops and my staff are starving in the street? I wonder Ms Sinclair if your lack of reputation of largesse would keep them warm, or perhaps Mr Everett if you would open you door to feed them." They all turned pale in their designer clothes and Bruce felt the thrill of adrenaline as he delivered his coup-de-grace.

"Ah silent I see. Well that's a pity, seeing I'm an airheaded wastrel without the capacity to understand the workings of your tiny minds. I wonder Lucius, if a complete audit of the charity that supports Arkham would stand up? Or would there be anomalies that you couldn't explain. That yacht you bought last year Stanley, or the debutante trip you sent the ever vague Ms Sinclair junior on last year?"

The room fell silent and Lucius hid behind his hand, God love this boy, he was absolute dynamite when he set his mind to it.

"So all that's left is to undo the damage to my company and to my reputation and **my** people come first." Bruce said slowly as he leaned powerful arms on the mahogany table and looked at each stricken face in turn. "Now I can suspend my involvement in Arkham and with it cost you millions of dollars in support, or I can withdraw completely and cry foul and arrange the aforementioned audit." He paused for dramatic effect, and to see the bead of sweat on the foul little Luke Everett was definitely worth it. "Or you can accede to my request and allow my people to sort this mess out. Several of you will need to step down off the gravy train, over the next few weeks, quietly of course since your delicate pride would be damaged beyond repair. And never forget I have been and always shall be the better man."

Lucius choked. "Do we need to put this to a vote?"

"You're a hard man Wayne." Luke Everett stammered.

Bruce inclined his head, collected his papers, after all they were beaten he didn't really need to draw blood. Well not quite.

He had barely made it back to his office when Lucius closed the door and sat in one of the armchairs. "Brutal."

"No not really, I let them get away with rorting a charity, embezzling millions in public funds and being a party to wholesale abuse. Somehow I think justice will catch up with them."

"No doubt justice in black."

Bruce smirked. "Maybe. Lucius I need all the files from Arkham, the abuse of the Joker is only the tip of a much larger iceberg, and I need to know who was pulling strings. In the short term I want the security improved I will send the schematics to you tonight. Background checks on every staff member and a full audit of the infirmary, as well as the logs of visitors to the asylum for the last 3 years, both for patients, supplies and miscellaneous."

"All of them?" Lucius choked.

"Is there a problem?"

"Hey I'm on your side Bruce."

"I know, it's been a tough few days."

"How is he?"

"Critical, but stable. There was an attempt on his life two days ago."

"In the hospital?"

"Yes. I need an appraisal from legal as well. Posit to them that we may be inclined to show compassion for the second hand abuse and take care of him. See what they say the legal position is for me? Delicately if you would."

"Best to keep your name out of it then. What do you want to do with Arkham?"

"I have a meeting with Commissioner Gordon in an hour I'll get back to you, but I think we need to weed out the unsavoury elements and put in an emergency crew. Dr Frinton is prepared to come in from New York temporarily as head to clean the mess up."

"Good news, he's reliable."

"That he is, I suggest you liaise directly with Aaron Cash."

"Yes I know him as well. They are not all monsters Bruce."

"I am yet to be fully convinced of that, however, we do have allies. One of whom should be checking in later tonight."

"Press release?"

"Have Corinne do that, something plausible."

"Ok, so ten foot aliens are out." Lucius chuckled.

Bruce continued to stare out at his beloved city and rested one hand against the cold glass of the panoramic window.

"Penny for them?" Lucius asked softly.

"He looked so small, so fragile Lucius."

"Ah Bruce, it's not a crime to care."

"But its Joker, the man killed dozens, when I saw the abuse I admit to being horrified but later it felt almost like justice."

"What happened?"

"He did. He turned his head towards me in the hospital, told me his name and asked me to save him."

"It is what you do."

"Yes but until recently it's not something I was ever prepared to do for him."

"You must make your own decision on that but feelings Bruce are intangible things, like love and compassion. They come from the heart, not from the mind and despite what we may think our better judgement is often overruled."

Bruce chuckled. "Alfred said almost the same thing."

"He's a wise man."

"Yes." There was a pause before Bruce turned around and removed a USB from his key ring and handed it across the table. "One of the doctors treating him found three small metallic devices implanted in the base of his skull, there is microcircuitry on them and I need an analysis as to the nature and purpose of the devices. I also need a good chemist."

"To do?"

"Toxicology reports indicate some anomalies in the blood work, the chemical breakdown is there, I have a good idea of what they do, but I'd like fresh eyes."

"Leave it with me, I'll get the reports to you as soon as I have them."

"Send the files to my private account Lucius I've got a meeting soon."

"They forget." Lucius said by way of departing.

"Forget what?"

"Oh I don't know? Your education, multiple PHD's, genius level IQ. Your charade is brilliant Bruce, they all believe you're stupid." Lucius chuckled and Bruce followed.

~~~~)))(((~~~~

"Commissioner Gordon, thank you for coming." Bruce was in full sartorial elegance as he took the Commissioner's coat and showed him into his personal office.

"It's hard to ignore a summons from the head of Wayne Enterprises." Jim Gordon sat down and folded his hands across his stomach and sighed. "Arkham?"

"Indeed, Arkham. Coffee?"

"Black, two sugars."

Bruce thumbed the intercom and within seconds a pot of perfectly brewed coffee and chicken sandwiches appeared on a side table, along with fruit and salad.

"And lunch." Bruce stood up and thanked the girl. "We'll serve ourselves."

"Do I need fortifying for this?" Jim smiled.

"I doubt it. As you know I'm on the board at Arkham and as of two hours ago have been voted in to clean up the mess."

Gordon sighed internally, _fantastic just what he needed, a media hound playboy_, and instead he smiled and bit into the sandwich.

"Oh don't look so worried." Bruce laughed. "Dr Frinton will arrive from New York this evening and will head up the admin team. We have our security division redoing the background checks and have organised a full audit of everything from the kitchen to the pharmacy. All patient records will be entered into a central database by my staff and will be cross referenced for any anomalies."

"Wow."

"You seem surprised? It's not easy running a company and I admit I play hard and rather foolishly sometimes but Jim give me some credit please."

"I'm sorry, it's just hard to see the man behind the tabloids."

"Speaking of which, our people are working on a plausible cover story for the shake up to minimize the fall out."

"Are we going to have to move patients?"

"No most can stay in situ, with of course the exception Joker."

"Ah."

"Batman."

"Of course you'd know him."

"Actually I don't, but he has asked for a complete overhaul of the security system including cameras and the rest. And will be sending the schematics to us later today."

"Asked personally?"

"I'm assuming the giant bat in my bedroom was him, it was after all three am and after several bottles of Cristal." Bruce smirked.

Jim Gordon chuckled. "He thinks that the Joker may not be crazy."

"You mean he did all that being sane?"

"No he has a theory though, and as annoying as it is he's generally right."

"So he was crazy but he's sane now?"

"It's complicated."

"Mmmm well everything around them usually is, if you can believe the media. Do you need anything else Jim?"

"No surprisingly it sounds as if you have it under control."

"For the moment, but I will keep you updated."

Gordon stood up to leave and ever the gentleman Bruce helped him on with his coat. "I have a terrible fear that Joker is in serious danger."

"More than he is now?"

"Just a hunch from an old beat cop."

Bruce didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified to have his own gut feelings confirmed. At the very least he wasn't alone.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N – first line is from the song "Strong." By London Grammer.**_

"_Excuse me for a while, while I'm wide-eyed, and I'm so down caught in the middle, I've excused you for a while, while I'm wide-eyed, and I'm so down caught in the middle_." He hated when that happened! When a song got stuck on permanent loop in his brain, soft and so very apt.

He struggled awake, the wires and monitors alerted the hospital staff as he tried to choke out a word. He smiled despite the pain as the tears ran down his face and something blocked his throat.

"Hey, you've got breathing tube in, don't panic, please relax, I'll get it out." His vision blurred on the face of a tired man, his gentle features creased into a relieved smile as he called for assistance.

It seemed to take forever before he felt the tug and pull of the tube and he winced as finally he breathed on his own. Ice chips slid into his mouth and the man, no doctor appeared next to him again.

"Do you remember me?" Nick asked softly.

"From A&E." His voice was dry as more ice was slipped into his parched mouth.

"Good. Mr J, do you remember what happened?"

He nodded unable to speak the words as he closed his eyes against the dread. "It's ok, you really are safe here. You're in a private room in Gotham General."

"Secure wing?" he coughed as he pushed himself painfully up in the bed as Nick pushed pillows under his head and lifted the bed.

"Yes."

"How bad?" he sounded so very tired, so very human and Nick smiled again.

"You have multiple wounds on your back that have been treated by the burns unit, most of which will scar given your skin condition, there was internal bleeding and damage from the assault and you've had minor surgery. You've got a broken ankle, collar bone and a small fracture in your skull. You had us worried Mr J."

"Jack." He managed the single word with much effort.

"Jack?"

"'s my name."

"Ah nice to meet you." Nick gently pushed the long hair from his face.

"Batsy?"

"Has been here every day, though I'm not sure how, but I'm glad he was." Nick smiled fully.

"Mmm." Jack answered lazily, with just a hint of southern drawl.

"Do you remember ever having surgery on your neck before?"

Jack shook his head and Nick frowned.

"You need to rest. There are antibiotics in the saline, along with vitamins, minerals and some mild painkillers. We'll try real food tomorrow."

"No anti-psychotics?"

"Do you need them?"

"Never did." Jack's voice gave out as he closed his eyes.

~~~)))(((~~~~

Bad news travelled fast of that Ramirez was sure, three hours ago the hospital alerted Gotham PD that Joker was awake. Damn it all his masters would not be happy about that. His face was ruddy as he pounded up into the hallway of the secure wing.

Ramirez champed at the bit outside his door. "He's awake?"

"Not long enough to make a statement." Nick shut the door to Jack's room firmly.

"Sonofabitch thought we'd seen the end of the crazy fuck."

"Once just once I will tell you this, stay away. I'll call Gordon if you need authorization, but you do not go near my patient. Not in my hospital, not on this ward and if I can make it not ever. That man is a victim of the system you put him into, his injuries are severe and I will not have you undo everything we have done to save him because of your bigotry."

"You don't need to call Gordon." Jim chewed on the electronic cigarette. "Ramirez you're relieved."

Nick smiled. "Off you go then." He shooed the Detective away and turned back to see the amused face of non other than Bruce Wayne. "Ah to what do we owe this pleasure?" Nick fumed silently, the last thing his patient needed was a well meaning socialite.

"Doctor?" Bruce enquired.

"Faber, Nick Faber." He finally held out his hand and was surprised to receive a firm shake.

"I understand you've been taking care of Mr J?"

"Yes."

"How is he?" Gordon asked in the rapidly cooling environment.

"Much better than expected, he's breathing on his own now. The burns unit with the help of some new Wayne Tech has closed most of the wounds on his back and stomach. Other wounds will take a lot longer to heal, the fractures and such. He is malnourished and we have him on saline now, we'll try food tomorrow. He's awake and surprisingly lucid, but tires easily."

"Mr Wayne has been appointed by the board at Arkham to resolve and repair the situation Dr Faber."

"Ahuh." Faber looked at him carefully and wasn't convinced. The Armani suit, the slicked back dark hair, just falling into his face and the beautiful blue eyes, he looked like the quintessential playboy. But there was a tiny smirk on full lips and the doctor frowned, he'd seen that expression before but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"I understand your reticence." Ah the voice soft, cultured yet firm, a resolve hidden behind silken depths and Faber moved closer. "However, I can assure you Wayne Enterprises take its civic responsibility seriously. We have stood down the medical team and have brought in top specialists from Boston and New York. Batman has provided us with the schematics of updated security and is currently I understand doing his detective thing with the information we have provided him. We are keen, Doctor Faber, for this to be an isolated case. Arkham was designed to care and offer treatment for the mentally ill, not just a pit to throw them into and keep them away from the more, gentle folks." His smile was blinding.

"Mr Wayne I meant no disrespect. But you don't appreciate the situation, that man in there may never have been insane."

"Good Lord are you saying he was sane when he went on a rampage?"

"No Mr Wayne, I'm saying we have credible proof to indicate he was a pawn and not capable of defending himself mentally or physically, he was as much a victim of the Joker as the rest of Gotham."

Jim Gordon cleared his throat and glared at the doctor.

"An interesting hypothesis, but sane or not, responsible or not, we are not about wholesale brutality Doctor, he will of course have the best of care and I can see he has at least an advocate. Whatever it costs, whatever you need if it's not available." Bruce handed him a business card. "That's my private line, you may not get me, but Mrs Cochrane is my PA she will organise anything you need."

"I'm..." Nick put the card away. "I really don't know what to say. Thank you." He blushed and Bruce smiled.

"May I see him?"

"Yes, yes of course."

"Commissioner, a few moments alone please, as we discussed."

"I don't like it Mr Wayne, he's dangerous."

"He's barely conscious." Nick interjected.

"You have my word, I'll scream if I need help." Bruce grinned again and played on his playboy persona.

"Of that I have no doubt." Gordon muttered.

~~~)))(((~~~

The room was in partial darkness and the man on the bed was small but his colour was returning, although his skin was bleached white, there was colour behind it, a soft healthy pink. He needed a bath and a shave with faint blond stubble covering his chin and the green dye only now on the tips of the blonde hair. But it was the eyes, and Bruce admitted it always had been the acid green eyes that looked at you and saw your soul. Understood how to eviscerate or compromise or enthral you with little more than a fleeting glance. Those same intelligent eyes now tracked his movement, slits of green that were more curious than afraid as he watched Bruce come closer.

"Hello _Beaut-i-ful..."_ Jack drawled softly.

"What um, what do I call you?" Bruce added a stammer for effect.

"_Anything you want_." Jack giggled softly and closed his eyes as it pulled at barely closed skin. Bruce nodded.

"I'm Bruce..."

"Wayne yes Joker has met you." The voice was soft, a lazy drawl, a seductive hitch but it was even and mellow, not the high octave's he normally associated with Joker. "_You're prettier_ in real life."

"Do you flirt with everyone?"

"No-_pe_. Only gorgeous men in Armani." Jack smile was unashamed and Bruce felt his face warm.

"Batman has asked me to take care of you."

"Ah Batsy." Jack closed his eyes and savoured the name on his lips. "So he sends me a playboy, a pretty one mind you but just how are you taking care of me?"

"Um well I've funded your extended stay. In a day or so when you're up to it, my legal team will come and sit with you to discuss future residences."

"No wait." Jack looked confused. "Isn't this the bit where you're supposed to send me back to Arkham?"

"Do you want to go back?"

"I," Jack looked down and Bruce could tell it was taking its toll on the man. "I'm ah, scared of Arkham."

"Yes I know. They never questioned you know, never asked, never gave you representation, never even considered that maybe The Clown Prince of Crime was a construct. Tell me, are you sane?"

"That's a loaded question Su-_gar _how does a mad man know?"

"I think, given your intelligence you'd know." Bruce smirked.

"You're smarter than they think too." Jack grinned back.

"Thank you, but you haven't answered my question."

"I really don't know. I'd like to think I am, but I'm not certain." Jack answered truthfully as he began to doze.

Bruce took a moment to watch him drift into sleep and cupped his cheek in a large warm hand. Again Jack nuzzled the palm and Bruce smiled. "Don't get into any more trouble."

Green eyes flew open as he watched the retreating form and he scowled, for a moment he thought, but then the drugs and the pain took it away, he went back to sleep.

~~~)))(((~~~

"So how did it go?" Clark asked carefully neutral. He could see the heat rise in his friend, the slight quickening of his heart, this was bad.

"Good. We'll give him legal representation until we can work out a more permanent option, and we're funding his stay. I'm concerned for the doctor however; he's a little too forthcoming with information and likely to get himself killed."

"I'll keep an eye on him. I spoke to my contacts at S.T.A.R labs, and they know of the project, Alfred's information was correct, but it appears that after the project got mothballed one of the doctors died, another as you know is currently teaching and the third turned himself toasty a week back."

"And again, ew."

"I'm doing a background check on the research team and I'll come back to you when I know. In the meantime are you going to see the delightful Ms Waller?"

"Not if I can help it." Bruce grimaced and pulled the cowl off his head as he opened a file for Clark on his computer.

"And I'm looking at?"

"Meet Jack Louis Napier. Born November 31, 1986, in Georgia."

"I thought he came from Brooklyn."

"Later he moved to Brooklyn when he was eight with his parents, his father was the head baker at Carmines in the Bronx and his mother was a nurse. School reports indicate he's highly intelligent and passed with no psychosis. Average southern family, who attended church, was widely active in the community and well liked."

"You sure you've got the right one?" Bruce just glared at him. "Okay sorry I asked."

"Joker has spoken of Jeannie who we assumed was his wife."

"And she's not?"

"I doubt it, Jack is gay."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Are you going to doubt everything I tell you?"

"Sorry, shutting up. Wait how you are sure he's gay?" The bat glare was in full force.

"Jeannie was his older sister. She was dating Sal Maroni and fell pregnant."

"Ah shit and Carmines was owned by Falcone."

"Yes, Falcone was not impressed and muscled Jack into working for him, his skills and gift as a chemist were highly regarded. Her safety was the leash they put on him."

"But how did Jeannie die?"

"Jack tried to run with his pregnant sister, she was killed seven months pregnant the night Jack fell into the vat of chemicals."

"Are his parents still alive?"

Bruce flicked the screen. "No father died in a work related incident, it's non specific, and his mother was found with slashed wrists the day of his funeral. She died two days later."

"That's shitty."

"It is. So while we have a stressor we don't have a background conducive to spawning the Joker."

"Which is where Cadmus and the Voice Of God come into play."

"Still working on it."

"Wait who found Jack?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Who rescued him from the chemicals?"

"I pulled him out, but by then I was not friendly with Gotham PD, I left him on a gangway."

"But according to this there are no hospital reports."

"I know. As I said still working on it."

"Your convinced he's sane and been manipulated."

"Not completely but the evidence is mounting."

"As are your emotions."

"Pardon?"

"B it's me remember I can see your heart rate."

"He's oddly endearing." Bruce finally admitted with a faint blush.

"Of for the love of Rao B, you cannot be falling for him."

He shrugged. "I know I can't leave him, not until I'm certain."

"And when you are, if he's mad?"

"Then he will go back to a nice padded cell in Arkham."

"Promise?"

"Clark really how old are you?"

"I mean it B; promise me you will put him back in a cell if he belongs there."

Bruce thought for a moment and nodded. "Agreed."

~~~))(((~~~

Nick stood by his office window and looked out at the rain, a cup of stale tea in his hand and the half eaten chicken sandwich lay forgotten on the desk. His eyes felt heavy as he tried to rub the grit from them.

The last word he thought, "Sleep."

And falling to a heap in the lounge he did just that.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N - probably a bit late in coming but this story assumes that Joke is around 28, Bruce around 32. Dick is only 12 and he has yet to meet Jason or anyone else. :) And yes I know it's OOC but hey this is how I see them in this story._

"B we have a problem."

Bruce roused from his sleep and tossed the covers back as he listened to Clark on the other end of the cell phone. "And?" he prompted as he threw on a robe and padded down stairs. Calls at five am from Kent were never a good sign.

"Did you know that the US holds patents on Silent Subliminal Presentation System, Method and an associated apparatus for remotely determining information as to a person's emotional state, implantable transceivers and passive tracking systems? And that a declassified record of Project Pandora states that _" they have the ability to modify behaviour with auditory-cortex stimuli, brain rhythm modification and many other biological applications of microwaves has been repeated shown in live studies since the 50's_" What the hell B?"

"Mmm there was a school of thought that a well known bomber claimed to have been implanted by the US Army, media claimed amidst much jeering he was a lone right wing, nut case with a chip on his shoulder. There are literally dozens of people who believed in this type of mind control from Stalin to Mao."

"I've looked up thousands literally of people who have claimed the voices made them do it, and whilst most are certifiable there are dozens of anomalies that fit the profile of ELF."

"ELF? As in with the ears?" Bruce yawned as he turned the heat up at his work station in the cave.

"No it stands for Extremely Low Frequency, so named because it mimics brain wave activity. There was a case in Alfred's time in the UK called the "Windsor Gang." An activist who found wholesale bribery in relation to heritage sites began speaking out at conventions in relation to the issues. She found herself targeted by what we assume was the British Secret Service using um...here we go, psychotronic weapons. Short story was she endured years of mental and physical torture. She claims to have heard two voices one man and a woman's who described themselves as the Windsor Gang."

"What was the form of abuse?"

"Hours on end of emotional and verbal abuse , intimidation, she claims to have been threatened, was unable to sleep, suffered extreme physical discomfort, loss of appetite, confusion, delusions and physical fantasies which included bouts of self harm."

"Ah. Clark have you slept yet, you sound shocked."

"Only because I believe you. Joker may not be crazy after all. I'm coming over."

"Sure bring coffee."

"Of course."

By the time Clark blew in some seventeen minutes later – he had to stop for Coffee and Danish, Bruce had dozens of searches running.

"There are thousands of documents on the internet, even more in sealed government files. You can even find files on YouTube and whilst most are conspiracy theory fabrications, there is enough truth out there if you look."

"I'm sure the volume of disinformation has been created to hide the truth in plain sight." Clark took a bite out of his apple Danish.

"You know Alfred will still force you to eat a proper breakfast."

"Counting on it." Clark smiled.

"I found Harley."

"You're kidding! Really?"

Bruce just cocked an eyebrow as he sipped the Starbucks coffee and grimaced. "All of her files, everything has be erased, she is no longer a legal entity in the system. She was, however, taken directly from Arkham to a halfway house in Vermont."

"How did you find her?"

"Pregnancy vitamins."

Clark snorted and coffee sprayed the monitor in front of him. "Honestly B how do you think of these things?"

"I'm assuming that since she is still receiving treatment that she is still alive and that she is still pregnant. The property is owned by several shelf companies, one built on top of another, but they lead back to Eagle Corp."

"Which is a front for Cadmus?"

"Precisely."

"So have to ask, does that mean that Joker is being run from Cadmus? And if so, for what purpose?"

"I hate to speculate."

Clark grinned, "You're not sure?"

"Not yet I will be though, so at least we know Harley is alive, Jack has a true past and that Cadmus at least in part probably with shady government backing is running a project that was supposed to be mothballed."

"And just so I'm on the same page. You're suggesting that the three devices in the back of Jack's head are in fact the implantable transceivers and tracking system, and that along with ELF has overridden his base personality which is Jack and channelled the anger and created Joker."

"Essentially."

"Let's just for a moment suspend belief and say I agree with you, the question B is still the same, why? Joker terrorized Gotham, and whilst I've looked for a pattern cannot see how this is in any way connected to Government conspiracies."

"It's the fatal flaw I'm afraid. Everything else makes sense." Bruce ran his hand through sleep tousled hair and yawned again.

"I thought bats were nocturnal."

"We are the suns up."

"How on earth can you know that? In the cave?"

"It's called CCTV. Very technical I'll explain over breakfast."

~~~)))(((~~~

Ramirez paced like a large angry beaver. His head down, fists stuffed into pockets and the odious scent of days old sweat and cigarettes clung to the cheap suit. He looked furtively up and down the corridor at the hospital and sighed.

Today was going to be a very bad day, no matter how he looked at it. But the mook Joker had to be silenced and the Boss wasn't the least bit amused that he managed to survive Arkham. And to make matters worse the damned doctor believed the crazy fucker. And what the hell was with Gordon and frigging Batman and that dippy socialite Wayne?

Today totally sucked, but such was the price paid for his daughters education or his son not falling into the 80% of drugs and despair that was Gotham on a good day. This would buy them their future, his wife would be ok, and all he had to do was keep the Boss clean. He closed the door softly behind him as he snapped on the latex gloves.

Joker didn't look like a threat anymore. He looked tired and young and beyond being able to wreak havoc on the city. But he had, that was what hardened his resolve, somewhere in that scarred angelic face was the man who had killed his partner.

He dipped his fingers into his coat pocket and pulled out the scalpel, the blade was sharp and it would be a quick if messy death.

He knew that forensic counter measures wouldn't really help; the best he hoped for was a small psychotic break that would land him in Mercy for a few days and then plea bargain his way out. Given it was Joker well, he hoped that would be enough for them to feel that he was in some way justified and be lenient.

Ramirez approached the sleeping figure and took a deep steadying breath.

"You know, that if you're going to be a good assassin you should shower." Jack pushed himself up in the bed and winced. Pain was one thing, survival instinct another as he slid to the floor on unsteady legs.

"Got orders." Ramirez weighed the odds; he was heavier, not injured and armed. The odds he thought were in his favour.

"Ah, and who from?" he kept the bed between them and desperately pushed the panic button.

"Never you mind, you can go quick or slow, makes no difference to me, just want you gone." The blade flashed in an arc and caught by surprise Jack put both arms up to protect his face, cruel slashes appeared on both his forearms and began to bleed profusely.

Jack swore colorfully and picked up the IV stand and pushed it into the cop's soft gut, hoping to hell to find an ulcer. Jack dropped into a crouch as he warily eyed his opponent between him and the door. A quick calculation as Ramirez attacked again and Jack landed with a thud on the hospital bed mid vault, pain shattered his resolve and his concentration and it was the break Ramirez needed. He reached out and pulled Jack off the bed by his hair and back handed him across the face. Jack slumped like a kitten in the too strong embrace, the ground becoming slick with blood as he felt the first flickers of darkness appear at the edge of his vision. Another slice this one to the wrist and Ramirez smiled viciously.

"Never thought of that one, suicide, nice touch." Ramirez grunted.

Jack kicked out and connected with the cops groin as he dropped him to the floor, the scalpel fell as white hands scrabbled to reach it first. He broke out in a sweat from the blood loss as he kicked again and pushed himself into the far corner of the room, the visitors chair offered little shelter between him and the cop as he wheezed and tried to gain his breath.

Ramirez pushed the chair forward and pressed Jack into the wall, his breathing laboured, as security barged into the room. Within seconds they had bought him down, Ramirez began to foam at the mouth and scream and then just as suddenly went limp in their arms as they pulled him away and out the door.

Jack keened softly, the scalpel clutched tightly in his hand as he looked with wide eyes at the assembled group.

"Get the Doc, he's cut." Miles O'Hara, the hospital's security chief, yelled to the frightened nurse at the door.

~~~)))(((~~~

Bruce threw the coffee cup into the trash can and growled. It was far too late in the day to be Batman but the attack on Joker, no Jack, was vicious. He watched the CCTV and put in a call to Gordon on a secure line. With a bone weary sigh he pulled on his jacket and headed out his office door.

~~~)))(((~~~~

"Where the hell is Doc Faber?" Gordon pushed into the room and winced.

"Have no idea Commissioner, he's not answering his pager." Eric Castle answered as he approached the man in the corner slowly. "Do you remember me?" his Dublin accent soft and gentle against Jack's harsh breathing.

The curly head bobbed once.

"Ah, okay then. You know I'm not going to hurt you."

Jack took a deep steadying breathe and turned the scalpel over in his hand, the blood had seeped down his white arms and into the hospital gown staining them both a vivid red.

"No." Jack held the scalpel in front of him and keened again.

"Ok, ok, easy now. I need to put some pressure on the wounds. Will you let me do that?"

"No-_pe_."

"You want to try Commissioner?" Castle got up wiped his hands across his knees.

"Jack." Gordon said so softly as if talking to his own child, he was answered with a sob. "Shh, you're hurt son, please the doc needs to put some pressure on the wounds to stop the bleeding."

Jack shivered and held the scalpel tighter. "Please go away, please, please, please."

Gordon rubbed a hand across his face and did as he was asked. "Ideas?" He asked the doctor.

"Wait him out, we've got blood standing by for transfusion, he'll pass out soon."

"That's not very comforting." Bruce said from the door and all eyes swivelled to see the man. He pulled his jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up as he undid his tie and walked across the room.

"Mr Wayne, now is not the time." Gordon caught him by the shoulder.

"Really? And when is the time? Shall we wait for him to bleed out?" Bruce's voice was harsh.

"He's armed."

"He's hurt and those wounds are defensive." Bruce countered as he pulled the chair back and crouched down in front of Jack. "Hello." He said as he laid a hand against the clammy cheek . Everyone in the room held their breath.

"Hi." Jack said softly.

"Who's the scalpel for?"

"Me."

"You? Why?"

"Be easy, just to go you know?" he looked up glassy eyed.

"Yep, I do, but I don't want you to go."

"Why?"

Bruce shrugged as he took his tie off and wrapped it around the abused wrist. "Does it matter why?" He continued to inspect the wounds as the nurse quietly handed him bandages to stop the flow of blood.

"Guess not su-_gar_." His voice began to slur.

"Hey, stay awake, can you give me the scalpel?"

"But it hurts, tired of hurting, others, me, you."

"I know, I know."Bruce crooned softly as he took the scalpel away and helped Jack to stand. He swayed and Bruce swept him up into his arms as he deposited him back on the bed.

"Stay." Jack asked as the doctor and nurses descended to clean up the wounds.

"Yep. I'll just be here talking to the Commissioner. I won't leave promise."

Gordon frowned and fought back the bile, in all the years he'd been in the force the smell of frank blood never got easier to take. "I'll be damned."

"Batman sent me a text."

"You too."

"Yes. What happened?"

"Near as we can tell Ramirez came in to take his statement and Joker attacked him."

"And you believe that?" Bruce cocked and eyebrow at the man and washed the blood off his hands.

"No. No I don't. As you said those wounds were defensive, and by the looks of him he could barely fight a kitten let alone an experienced cop."

"I thought Nick Faber was his doctor?"

"Apparently he's not answering his pager."

"Doesn't that worry you?"

"You don't think?"

"Apparently I've been accused of that frequently, but if he's been attacked by a cop, and his doctor isn't answering the pager, might be he's in trouble too."

"I think I picked the wrong decade to give up smoking."

"No really?" Bruce smiled as Gordon left the room. Hospital security stood vigil outside the door as the doctor hooked up the IV . A nurse finished doing the obs and left. "Doctor?"

"Mr Wayne, it's an honour sir."

"Any permanent damage?"

"No, the wounds look bad, but they are superficial. They'll heal in time."

"Like all the rest."

"That really was rather remarkable, they way you handled him."

"I've got some experience with sick kids."Bruce smiled again.

"He'll sleep for awhile."

Bruce waited until the room was empty before he pressed a button in his pants pocket and took security feed off line. It should give him a few minutes at the very least. "I thought I asked you not to get into anymore trouble." Bruce sat on the side of the bed and held a long fingered hand in his own.

"'M sorry Su-_gar_ I was just trying to sleep."

"It's okay now, but I'm going to have to move you."

"Where?" Jack shuddered and cringed.

"Hey no, not back to Arkham, somewhere safe though. Will you trust me?"

Jack nodded as Bruce's thumb made lazy circles across the scarred wrist. Finally he looked down and turned the limb over to examine the scar. It was odd, very odd.

"How?"

Tears threatened but would not fall as the wounded man bowed his head in shame. "I got hungry."

"What?" Bruce felt the bile rise in throat.

"In Arkham, there was no food, and my stomach hurt and the blood helped."

"Dear God, you bit your own wrist to survive?" Gordon asked from the doorway.

"'M sorry, really." Jack mumbled as he curled in the bed, his hand clutched the larger one.

"Now that's fucked up." Gordon said as he watched Wayne settle the man to sleep, and a dark unreadable expression crossed the billionaire's face.


End file.
